


when logic meets magic

by skeleton_high



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), BAMF John, Crime, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, GO and Sherlock crossover, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Slow Burn, post canon GO, sherlcok trying to figure out Crowley and Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_high/pseuds/skeleton_high
Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley not-so-accidentally solve a crime find themselves with a new demon and a very annoyed detective.AKAEveryone has feelings, no one knows how to talk about them. The one where Sherlock gets together with John and Crowley with Aziraphale.Also, Sherlock tries so deduce who are the two strangers who happened to solve a crime he thought only him could solve.





	when logic meets magic

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo I am @heavenlyfuckers on tumblr come talk to me. I'm the one who wrote that crossover where Aziraphale tells John about how Crowley and him met. So yeah, this is the beggining of the full story. Hope you don't get too bored!

_Some months after the Apocalypse that wasn't in Soho, London_

“What do you think dear?”

Aziraphale holds up two books at Crowley, with a deeply concerned look on his face, as if he's making a life or death choice. Crowley sighs and leans back on the couch he's been sitting on, raising an eyebrow. The two books look exactly the same to him, the cover, the old marks, just identical.

“It looks perfectly fine angel”

Aziraphale lets out a bluff of air and shakes his head. Ever since they didn't die after the non-apocalypse Aziraphale has tried to lay down the use of miracles, at least the big ones, and start creating a more 'honest' life on Earth. It's got into his head that to achieve that, he's got to stop avoiding human interaction, starting with his bookshop.

Crowley can't remember when was the last time Aziraphale sold a book, honestly he doesn't think he's has ever sold one. He can't see how honest is to duplicate all of his books just so that he can keep the originals to himself, though. They've done that all week, ever since the idea got into Aziraphale's head. Crowley had been excited at first, it's not everyday you see an angel breaking off century long habits. But after six days of rearranging books, labeling and pricing covers, Crowley's got somehow bored.

“I don't know. This is clearly the copy” he moves one of the books dramatically “people will know!” Aziraphale complains, but still puts the 'fake' one on the  _to sell _ pile. Crowley can see the guilt coming off the angel in waves.

“I don't think they will angel, humans don't tend to have _supernatural powersss_ to detect these kind of things” he chuckles.

Aziraphale shakes his head again, clearly not believing a word, and resumes miracling books into existence. Crowley thinks this might be one of the biggest scams in history of humanity, considering almost all the books Aziraphale is duplicating are originals, first editions in perfect condition many of which date back thousand years ago. Worth a fortune probably. He has his eye on a couple of books that, given the right place, time and humans, could really start a war. Personally, he doesn't really care if what Aziraphale is doing isn't really what you'd call morally correct, in fact he's amused at the angel's involuntary mischief. It might been boring to order book after book in the endless shelves Aziraphale's bookshop has, but getting to look at the angel all day long is enough of a reward for him. He hops around the shop, in those tiny spectacles he doesn't really need, looking more peaceful he's ever been. As stressed as he is about running a shop where he has to actually sell books, he looks free. And that's something Crowley never thought they could be. Because somehow, he feels it too. A relief deep inside of him he's never felt before. That's a lot of firsts for just three months.

“Crowley, be a dear and go put all these in the storage room” asks Aziraphale nodding to a pile of books, just as Crowley has made himself comfortable on the sofa “And please, don't just miracle them away, you know we should abstain of frivolous miracles for a while” he adds before he can snap his fingers and wish all those books away.

Crowley groans tiredly, cursing at Someone annoyed before picking the pile of books. He walks to the new storage room Aziraphale has built, or better said, miracled (so much for not using miracles anymore) and puts the books down. He can't believe no one has noticed how the shop has miraculously doubled in size, since the storage room isn't really a storage unit but more of a small library. It is very packed, and the only thing that fits apart from the bookshelves is a small desk sitting in the middle of the room. Crowley sits in the chair besides it and sighs, leaning into the table as he miracles the books onto their respective places on the shelves. What Aziraphale doesn't know can't hurt him, Crowley thinks.

For a moment he stays there, even when the books are arrenged as they should. Weirdly, this new room is the one that smells the most like Aziraphale. Maybe it's because of the books, maybe it's because he's miracled it so recently, Crowley doesn't really care. He's really tired and the familiar smell makes him doze off quickly. He can hear Aziraphale humming in the front, probably pricing some more books. They are nearly done with the shop, and even if Crowley complains they've spent too many time doing things the human way, he's a bit sad this will end. He's never been so annoyed yet had so much fun. Maybe he will ask Aziraphale to redecorate his flat. Someone knows he owns him at least that, after all the work he's put into the bookshop (but he knows Aziraphale would say yes to him if he asked, owning him or not).

For a moment he thinks he's going to fall asleep right there, but before he can close his eyes, he hears the front door open. He hears Aziraphale say something and an unknown voice respond, probably a woman. Getting up quickly, he shakes off any sleepiness he had in him and rushes to the front.

“I can't believe they've done nothing yet! They won't even tell me who's their suspect!”

A middle-aged woman, maybe in her fifties, is sitting on the couch Crowley was before, seemingly distressed and talking to Aziraphale. He relaxes a bit when Aziraphale responds friendly, but he doesn't let his guard down still. He lingers in the shadows, behind a bookcase, making sure the lady isn't in fact an undercover immortal being.

“Please, do sit down Martha, stay there and let me get you a tea dear” says Aziraphale, already in his way to the kitchen upstairs.

Taking a step further, Crowley hits a bookcase with his feet unintentionally, but it's enough of a sound for the lady to notice him.

“Is there anyone there?” she calls, sitting up wearily. For a moment Crowley thinks of going back to the storage room and stay there until she's left, but on a second thought he's too curious to know the human who has earned a nickname from Aziraphale. He's got some questions for her.

“Who are you?” he asks, stepping out of the shadows with his head high, ready to face the lady with his most threatening face. The lady however suddenly beams at him and stands up walking to him excitedly.

“You must be Crowley, right?” she asks, definitely throwing him off.

“Ngk” he's really lost so the words don't come to him easily. For a moment he just raises an eyebrow, not knowing what to answer.”Uh yeah. How you know?”

“Erza speaks of you all the time!” she says happily, taking his hands on her own. Usually Crowley wouldn't allow the touch, but Aziraphale's name takes all his attention.

“Of me?”

“Yes darling! I've wanted to meet you for a long time, he's always talking about how good you are to him, and oh my, I wish my husband was here to take me to the Ritz. So romantic! You are really lucky to have him. And if all the things he's told me are true, he's the luckiest man on earth too. A love like that is rare to find in today's world, I tell you”

Crowley's brain has suddenly decided to stop working and his face is frozen in what must be unflattering grimace. His mind is thorn between an ' _Of course I'm lucky to have him' _ and ' _ Aziraphale talks about us. US' _

At that very moment Aziraphale decides to come back down with a tray of tea. Crowley's flushed face must surely show the awkwardness he's feeling because he rushes to his aide leaving the tray on a coffee table and interrupting the lady before she can continue talking.

“Martha, I see you've met Crowley”

She grins widely turning to Aziraphale and dropping their handshake finally (Crowley's palms were about to start sweating like crazy).

“He's exactly as you described him Erza, you didn't forget one thing, exactly the same from his head down to his toes” she says smiling.

Crowley flushes even more, he can't imagine Aziraphale talking about him in any situation. Aziraphale guides Martha into the couch again and sits besides her, pouring the tea on the cups.

“Would you like a cup my dear?” he asks him and Crowley shakes his head before sitting on a chair across the coffee table. Not knowing what to do with his hands he puts them in his pockets. He must look ridiculous, as always, but he couldn't care less. He's just learned Aziraphale talks to people about him. Suddenly he doesn't know how to feel.

“How do you know... her?” Crowley asks, still a bit lost.

“Oh, silly me, I haven't even introduced you two” exclaims Aziraphale, putting down his cup of tea “Crowley, this is Martha. Martha, I'm sure you already know Crowley”

Martha smiles broadly and politely gives her hand to Crowley. He shakes it to lightly, still with many questions running around his head.

“But... how?” he asks feeling dumb “I mean, you...”

“Oh, right, yes” Aziraphale says after Crowley quietly glances to him for help “She is part of the neighbour committee, she's always brought me the news, you know, since I'm not able to attend most of the time”

From the look on Aziraphale's eyes Crowley is almost sure that he's never attended one single meeting, and even surer that this, Martha, is just a noisy lady who cares a little too much about the lives of her fellow neighbours. He finally lays back against the chair, slowly relaxing again.

“I haven't seen you for a while, actually” he says, turning to Martha, who's sipping on her tea “Last time was...”

“Almost four months ago. I just returned from my vacation last week. We went to Santa Clara, it's a lovely island, just next to San Sebastián. I'm telling you Erza, you have to go. You can go with Crowley! I've heard it can be really romantic. It's fun to go with kids too, my grandchild had a great time. Maybe in the future you can go with your children” she rambles happily, not noticing how the smiles have dropped from Aziraphale's face.

Crowley shifts again in his chair, not knowing where to look. He's used to humans confusing their relationship, it's nothing new. But to hear someone talk so unashamedly of them so... accepting, makes him feel weird. Aziraphale must be feeling similarly, since he shifts on his seat too.

“I don't think that will happen Martha” he says with an uncomfortable smile. Martha frowns and puts down her cup of tea.

“Oh, nonsense darling. You've got plenty of options. There's adoption, in vitro-”

“You must tell me all about the robbery dear” Aziraphale cuts her, face flushed “I don't think you finished telling me what happened. And I'm sure Crowley here would like to know”

She raises her eyebrows and Crowley can sense anger starting to come from her.

“Oh yes, I am appalled. You see Crowley, someone broke into my house sometime in the last months. I was on San Sebastián of course, with my daughter and her family, so I wasn't there when it happened. And when I arrived last monday everything was upside down, they trashed my home completely. Not a bit of respect”

Crowley tilts his head interested.

“Did they steal anything?” he asks eagerly. It all reminds him of when he was still on the demonic business.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolds him, but Martha just shakes her head with frustration.

“That's the worst part! They didn't steal a thing. Nothing of value really. Just the TV, but it was such an old TV I don't think they would've make much money out of it. It's like they staged all of it, I tell you”

“Nothing else?” asks Aziraphale this time, curious.

“Nothing of value. And here's why I am so angry. I couldn't care less about the house. Or the TV. If they had stolen my precious gold watch I couldn't have cared less. They did steal however my late husband, may he rest in peace, journals” Aziraphale looks up at Crowley is sure he's doing a silent prayer “They stole all the journals he left me. And they had all of our photos within! My heart aches just thinking about it”

Crowley suddenly stops enjoying the story. Martha gives off an aura of sadness so deep that he can feel it piercing him. For a moment he thinks of what he would do if someone stole his memories with Aziraphale. Kill whoever did it, probably.

“Why would someone do that?” asks Aziraphale frowning.

“People are just assholes Martha, it was probably some idiotic teenagers who didn't know what to do with their time” he says trying to calm her. It doesn't work though, and Martha gets even angrier, probably confusing the caution on Crowley's voice for nonchalance.

“That doesn't give me the journals back!” she yells, a sob choked in her throat.

Aziraphale takes her hand in his and squeezes it, giving Crowley a disappointing look, as if he were saying  _'You had to make it worse, didn't you?' _ and Crowley returns the look shrugging his shoulders, trying to convey as best as he can  _'You know I am not good with words angel'._

“Martha, I didn't mean-” he begins to say with a sigh, knowing that if he doesn't Aziraphale will not talk to him all afternoon.

“No, I am sorry, I am just really upset about all of this” Martha says after breathing for a bit “But I don't think it was teenagers. Police has a suspect already. But they won't tell me”

“The pigs...” Crowley mutters under his breath, and only Aziraphale hears him.

“I don't know why they won't tell me. Maybe they don't even have a suspect. They must think I'm just a stupid old lady...”

“Martha, you aren't that at all! I'm sure they have a good reason not to tell you” reassures Aziraphale, nodding with his head convincingly.

“Oh, I don't know Erza, I've talked about it with some friends and they told me similar things have happened to people they know, from the neighbourhood, you see. People breaking in their houses only to take personal items and turn everything upside down. And then the police doing absolutely nothing. I don't have much hope in police at all”

“As you should. Police do nothing to help. They're a bunch of corrupt bastards if you ask me” says Crowley with disgust “You should hire a detective or somthin'. May help you get your journals back at least” he recommends her, and Aziraphale nods in agreement.

“Oh no dear, I already tried. Went to that famous private investigator, just near Marylebone, Sherlock Holmes, and you know what he told me? That he was busy! With more urgent cases. Said no one in their right mind would take my case” 

“Sherlock? That's an old name, I haven't heard it since...” asks Aziraphale frowning “A long time ago”

Of course Aziraphale wouldn't know who _The_ Sherlock Holmes is, thinks Crowley, since he's been hiding in the bookshop for years, and the only interest in human culture he's had recently is in watching cooking shows, such as Hell's Kitchen and the Great British Bake Off (that being his ultimate favorite). Crowley firmly believes Aziraphale will catch on the culture of this century when the next one comes by, since he still is interested on the nineteen hundreds. 

Crowley has heard about the famous Sherlock Holmes of course, he read about him on a magazine once, while he was performing a tempting in a dentist office. He doesn't actually know much about him though, only that this generation of humans regard him as one of the finest and most clever detective ever born. That's all there is to know about him, he thinks.

“You don't know Sherlock?” asks Crowley then with fake surprise, knowing quite well his angel won't have a clue who he is. Martha turns to Aziraphale with her eyebrows raised as far as they'll go and opens her mouth amazed.

“Well...”

“Oh where have you been living Erza?” asks Martha in turn, giving Aziraphale a pat on the arm. Crowley laughs amused at the angel's confusion “Sherlock Holmes! Crowley, tell him about Sherlock!”

Any laughing Crowley had inside of him stops at once while he desperately thinks of a way of talking himself out of the conversation.

“Oh, well, he's the most famous detective London has seen in years, and he's solved many, many cases, of much importance through the last decade. Or so” he says in his most _I know what I am talking about _voice. Martha and Aziraphale look at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue, so he does the best he can.

“He lives near Marylebone... Very talented lad, yes”

The moment he lays his eyes on Aziraphale he knows that the angel knows that he hasn't got a clue about what he's speaking of. Martha however seem enchanted by him and for some odd reason, enjoys lots talking about Sherlock Holmes.

“Why don't you tell me about some _famous _case this Mr Holmes has solved, dear. I'm sure that if you know him so very well you'll know a case or two by heart, right Martha?” Aziraphale asks, and for a moment Crowley thinks that if Aziraphale were to be a demon, he'd be better than him at it. The mischievous half-grin the angel sends him just reaffirms his theory.

He's about to bite back at the angel when Martha gets up suddenly, leaving her cup of tea back on the tray.

“I'm so sorry gentleman, I have to leave. I just came here to pass by and now I'm going to be late!” she says as she adjust the collar of her jacket while glancing at her watch nervously “I have to meet up with my daughter to see if my insurance can do something for me”

Aziraphale gets up after her, already showing her to the door. Crowley gets up too, but just to go across the coffee table and into the sofa that's now empty.

“I hope you get some peace, Martha, I truly do. If there's anything I can do you know where to find me”

Crowley rolls his eyes at him and reaches for Aziraphale's cup of tea, sipping it a bit and leaving it back down with a grimace after finding it cold.

“Thank you darling, it is always a pleasure to talk to you” she says from the door to Aziraphale, but turning to Crowley as well “I'm very happy to finally meet you Crowley, I trust you'll take care of Erza, yes?”

Crowley chokes on air at her words and Aziraphale just shakes his head, slightly embarrassed.

“I will be out of town for a while, I'm staying with my daughter for the moment, but when I come back I expect to meet you both again. Have fun boys!”

Before they can reply, Martha is gone.

“She's quite something, isn't she?” says Aziraphale, turning the sign on the door to _closed _and sits at the main desk, starting to label books again. Crowley's stuck on the sofa, cheeks flushed and mouth slightly open.

“You take a nap, dear, I think you've helped me enough as it is” Aziraphale turns to him with a smile on his face “You deserve a bit of rest, especially after this”

Maybe it's the embarrassment, or maybe it's Aziraphale scent on the couch, but Crowley can feel himself dozing off again.

* * *

When he wakes up, the shop smells of hot chocolate, sweet and warm. It's no longer daytime, and Crowley wonders how long he's been asleep. The sofa he's lying on is miraculously bigger, and quite comfortable. He stretches his legs, and finds he's wearing his silk pajamas. He smiles a little before he notices he doesn't have his glasses on.

“They're right above you, on the shelf” he hears Aziraphale say from the other room as he sits up on the couch. He turns around and puts them on.

“Did you sleep well, dear?” the angel asks walking from the storage room to the front. He's holding a mug of hot cocoa in his hands and has a book under his right arm. As Crowley looks around he finds the shop clean, all books in place, labeled, priced and all. Aziraphale sits besides him, putting the mug and the book on the coffee table.

“How long was I...” mumbles Crowley, still half asleep.

“Just ten hours dear, a quick nap for you” chuckles Aziraphale, guiding Crowley's head into his lap and stroking softly his hair.

Crowley relaxes under the touch, feeling the angel's fingers on his scalp. That's a new thing too, Crowley thinks. After the Apocalypse-that-wasn't Aziraphale has become much more touchy with him. Before, this was something Crowley didn't dare think (okay, maybe he did think about it, but he didn't dare act upon those thoughts). And when Aziraphale put his hand over his on the bus back to London, Crowley realized how much he'd yearned for that touch. It has a calming effect on him, feeling Aziraphale's hands on him, holding him, caressing him.

When Aziraphale reaches for his glasses, he find himself not caring a bit.

“You don't need them around me, my dear boy. And you do have the most beautiful eyes”

It's moments like this that make Crowley warm inside. He thinks of kissing Aziraphale, how wonderful that would be.

“So much for not using miracles anymore, huh?” he says instead, whispering, putting those thoughts on the back of his head. He feels his eyes closing, but he doesn't really want them to, not when Aziraphale is looking down on him, so... lovingly “Unless you changed me yourself to my pajamas, yeah”

“Oh, well... I didn't want to wake you” chuckles Aziraphale quietly “And I didn't say 'no more miracles'. Just avoid unnecessary ones”

“One could say that..” Crowley yawns softly, and one of Aziraphale's hand leaves Crowley's head to rest on his cheek instead “that this was unnecesary”

“Not at all my dear, you're never unnecesary” says sweetly the angel, smiling down at him “Thought you knew better by now love”

Crowley feels his (useless) heart tighten inside his chest and he shifts on Aziraphale's lap to lay sideways, gripping at his angel's tights tightly. Above him, he feels Aziraphale reaching for his mug. Soon after, he can hear the sound of a book's pages being turned. He tries to go to sleep again, but suddenly he's restless. Aziraphale's hands never stop caressing his hair.

“Angel...” he starts, not really sure what he's trying to say.

“Yes dear?”

Crowley bites his lips and turns again to be on his back, looking up to Aziraphale. He's left his book aside again, and waits for him to continue.

“We're together now, right?” he asks, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth. It's a stupid question, he knows that. Aziraphale just raises his eyebrows and stares at him. Crowley doesn't know if the silence ever-growing in the room is awkward or not. Probably is.

He sits up, and untangles himself from Aziraphale quickly, reaching for his glasses.

“Forget it, was stupid to-”

Aziraphale stops him from putting on the glasses and stares at him some more.

“Angel?”

“I'm sorry dear” Aziraphale says, eyebrows furrowed in concern “You shouldn't have to ask that. I should have been more clear”

Crowley feels anxiety begin to tickle him. He knows what Aziraphale means by that. He knows it's a  _yes, of course we're together dear, _ but he can't stop his mind from racing from one thought to another.

“We're together, of course we are dearest” states Aziraphale firmly, as if reading his thoughts “As long as you'll have me”

_Forever angel, I doubt I'll ever stop wanting you, _ Crowley wants to say, but he settles on a choked out sound coming from inside his chest. Aziraphale takes his hands and presses his thumbs to the palm of his hands.

“It's just” Crowley says breathless “That woman, Martha...” his angel nods him to continue “You didn't like when she said all that about us being... together and all that”

Aziraphale pauses his fingers and looks somewhere else, cheeks flushing just the faintest shade of pink.

“Oh, not, that wasn't-” he clears his throat once and looks at Crowley again “I was just a tad embarrassed. I didn't think she'd talk about us in such an... human way. Doesn't take away all my feelings for you. Sorry if that made you unsure”

Crowley turned his head slightly, speechless. This was just typical Aziraphale.  _I have feelings for you, just not human feelings_ . He's tried to get over  _his _ human feelings for Aziraphale lots of times. It's easier when the angel doesn't mention how differently humans love. Of course Aziraphale wouldn't lower himself to such things. He feels bitterness rising on his chest, so he breathes, calming himself before Aziraphale makes a big thing about the whole situation.

“It's alright angel”

Aziraphale smiles at him widely and reaches again for his hands, pulling him closer. And Crowley thinks it's not that bad if the angel doesn't love him the way Crowley loves him. He's okay with it as long as the angel keeps holding him like that.

“Oh, and before I forget it, I had an idea” he says suddenly, breaking off their embrace. He has that look on his eye Crowley doesn't like at all, that look Aziraphale knows Crowley can't say no to.

“Since Martha is a human I've grown quite fond of and she mentioned that those journals were so very valuable to her...”

“Angel...” Crowley cuts him, knowing where all this is going to and not liking it at all, but Aziraphale continues anyway.

“We could try to retrieve them for her!” he says proudly, as if he's had the most intelligent idea.

“Nope”

Crowley gets up and stretches his arms and neck, feeling the moment they've just had vanish. With a snap of his fingers he's clothed again, and he starts to wander around the shop, noticing all the shelves are full now and the pricing machine is nowhere in sight.

“Now, listen to me Crowley-” Aziraphale gets up too, following him eagerly, with that bright look on his eyes.

“You finished falfi-falsificating your books, angel?” he asks, trying to distract Aziraphale from the inevitable. When something gets into the angel's head, it doesn't fade easily.

“It's not falsification, it's replicating!” the angel snorts offended “And yes, I have. But, see-”

“So you're opening soon? Like opening, opening, actually selling. I don't want to be here when customers starts pouring in”

“Yes, Crowley, but listen to me” Aziraphale says completely ignoring Crowley “This will be fun! It'll be like being detectives! Solving a mystery and all”

“This is starting to sound like your old job” says Crowley scrunching his nose, unconvinced “Miracling things for good and all”

“But it won't! There'll be no miracling of any kind involved, I promise”

And when Aziraphale looks at him with his biggest puppy eyes, Crowley knows he's won. Still, he has a dignity to maintain, so he won't give up that easy. At least he hopes he won't.

“And why would you think I'd be interested in solve _mysteries_?” he asks doing some silly gesture with his hands, sitting on Aziraphale's desk, promptly ignoring the pointed look he gets for it.

“Well” Aziraphale begins, sitting on the chair besides the desk “I have many reasons to belive you'll be interested”

_Oh, this will be fun, _ Crowley thinks, shifting in the desk more comfortably.

“Firstly, I know you like Martha-” Crowley shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows, smirking unbelievingly “You do, Crowley, you're rarely talk to people you don't like—which is almost everyone—and you've been awfully talkative this morning. You can't deny it will bring you satisfaction to see Martha happy, dear”

Crowley purses his lips. This isn't nearly as fun as he thought it'd be by far.

“Secondly” Aziraphale puts two fingers up, and Crowley can't believe he's that much of a dork “We've been locked up here for almost a week, so I know you'll have fun playing detectives. And even if you think it will bore you now, I know you well so trust, you'll have fun”

“If you wanted to roleplay all you had to do is ask angel” he teases, raising his eyebrows suggestively. As expected, Aziraphale rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“And thirdly, and more importantly” he says willingly ignoring the demon. He pauses dramatically and Crowley catches his breath when he feels one of Aziraphale's hands on his thigh “I'm asking you to”

He shallows. Hard.

“Nkg- Um” his face must be blushing like crazy, and Crowley doesn't know if he hates or loves the angel now (probably it's hate, since the smirk the angel has on his face doesn't seem to flatter) “Right” he clears his throat and jumps a bit when Aziraphale squeezes lightly his thigh “So, uh, what's the plan?”

* * *

“You really have to do this. You can't just miracle it open”

Crowley can't believe the angel is currently trying to pick his way into Martha's apartment using a freaking credit card. They are now standing on the hallway of her building, Aziraphale on his knees, concentrating on sliding the card through the door, as if it that were to work.

“Let me focus dear, I can't if you're constantly bickering” the angel says bothered, and Crowley can't believe the audacity the angel has to be irritated at him_,_ when it's clearly him who has to be annoyed. After all, they've been there, outside the door for almost twenty minutes now, when all it takes to open it is a rapid snap of his fingers.

“Well you're never going to get it open with that, and I'm starting to regret following you here” he huffs, leaning on the side of the wall.

“So I should try another method, you say?” the angel drops the credit card and sits pensively on the floor of the hallway “I did see this lady the other day on the _telly_,” Crowley can't help but cringe at the word “and she used her hairpins to open a door, with some ill-intention that I don't condone, should I say, but it did seem to work”

Crowley is about to tell him TV isn't a reliable source of information when Aziraphale gestures with his hands and two bobbypins appear in his hand. Crowley's eyebrows rise as far as they'll go and he feels dumber and dumber every passing second. He can't believe Aziraphale, the one who doesn't want to use miracles to open a goddamned door just miracled away two fucking bobbypins into existence, as if that didn't count as a miracle.

“I hope this works dear” he says happily, already shoving the pins into the lock, moving them around inside without any thought to it.

Crowley breathes, once, twice, and tries not to get to angry. He's had enough, so with a wave of his hand the door opens just as Aziraphale moves the bobbypins up. The amazed squeak Aziraphale lets out should bother him a lot more than it does, Crowley thinks.

“I told you it'd work, Crowley! You'll just have to have some more faith in this good old angel in the future dear. After you”

Aziraphale stands proudly besides the open door with a hand gesturing Crowley to enter.

“Please don't call yourself that never again” Crowley mutters with a shake of his head. He's about to comment on how pride is a sin when he stops on his tracks.

Martha didn't exaggerate when she said they'd trashed the place. All the furniture is broken and the walls were spray painted.

“Well that's a shame” he hears Aziraphale say as he closes the door after him, and he nods agreeing with the angel.

“Humans are just shitty” he says as he makes his way through the apartment, avoiding stepping on the mess “No need for demons really, this they do on their own”

“But it doesn't make any sense” thinks the angel, looking at a huge photo hanging on a wall. It's Martha with some man, probably his husband, but the photo is spray painted too, like the walls. With a gesture the angel restores the photo clean “This isn't just a break-in. This has malice behind it. You heard Martha, they took only the TV and the journals. Whoever did this knew how much the journals meant to her”

Crowley shakes his head helplessly as he passes a finger over a broken porcelain pig on the floor. Martha may be a nice enough lady but she sure has zero style.

“I don't know angel, maybe she has an enemy or somethin'. Have you asked her? But sometimes humans do this shit just for fun, you know, they enjoy making each other suffer, for all I know her daughter would've done this”

Aziraphale shakes his head frowning “No, this is something else. And she's very loved, I've always felt that. I don't think no one would want to hurt her. Not like this. This is plain evil”

“Well I wouldn't have done this when I was still assuring souls for hell” Crowley responds shrugging.

“That's because you're too nice to be a demon” Aziraphale chuckles before disappearing to another room.

Crowley contemplates shoving Aziraphale into a wall, but his thoughts are cut short when he hears the angel gasping in distress on the other room.

“Crowley!”

As fast as he can he gets to the room Aziraphale is in, and as soon as he steps in he understands the angel's distress. The whole room is as messed up as the living room. It's supposed to be a small studio, with the desk upside down and papers all over the floor. And it smells indistinctly evil. It's on the walls, on the air, everywhere. Aziraphale is kneeling by a table, grey dust in his fingers. He raises them to Crowley.

“A demon has been here. This isn't human”

The angel has that serious look on his face, meaning this has stopped being all fun and good, and now they've got a bigger problem on their hands.

“Yeah, I can feel it all over” says Crowley, stepping carefully in the room. Lucky enough the demon seems long gone, and he doubts he'll come back “I didn't think they'd get replacements so soon...”

For a moment Crowley thinks it's too much of a coincidence to find proof of demonic activity, when he looks up to the ceiling and his jaw drops. He's, as humans would say, scared shitless.

“A-aziraphale” he whispers, gulping hard saliva he didn't know he had “I think they wanted us to find this”

Aziraphale looks up and pales even more. On the ceiling there is a white envelope, with the distinct mark of Hell plastered all over. With a snap of his fingers it's on Crowley's hands.

“Are you sure it's wise to open?” asks Aziraphale tentatively “Maybe it's a trap”

“If they wanted to get to us they'd been a lot more straight forward” says Crowley, almost, almost believing his own words. If he weren't a demon he'd be praying that Hell wasn't trying to find them again for punishment. At this point he has no clue of what Hell's planning. Slowly he opens the envelope and a card slides off of it. Behind him Aziraphale reads the card aloud.

_Demon Crowley, due to the recent events you aren't fit for the job anymore. Please don't contact Hell in the future nor your replacement. No regards, Beelzebub, lord of Hell._

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Crowley yells, angrily throwing the card through the window making it burn as it falls “All this fucking mess just to fire me?”

He can feel his heart beating too fast in his chest from the scare. He can't move from the spot, mind racing from one thought to another. Aziraphale has turned around now, and seems a lot more calmed than Crowley. Kneeling down again he reaches for the grey dust the demon has left behind and miracles a small bottle where he collects it.

“We can summon the demon with this, I think” he says and Crowley thinks he's out of his mind.

“Are you out of your mind? We don't know who this is, for all I know this could be Satan himself, you lunatic! They can kill us! They've observed us, you. They know Martha knows you so they did this just so we would find the note, they're not stupid!” he yells feeling the ground sink beneath him.

“Crowley, calm down” says Aziraphale, standing up and putting a hand on Crowley's shoulder, squeezing it tight “We are in a better situation I thought we were. Think about it. Breathe”

Crowley doesn't know when he's started hyperventilating, but he stops suddenly.

“No, actually breathe, don't just stop doing it, you need to calm down. First of all, Hell doesn't want anything to do with you, so we finally know that they're not after us anymore, well, behind you. You're safe, at least for now. That card was a proof”

Crowley starts breathing again, trying really hard to make sense of what the angel's talking about.

“And know we know there's a demon out there. We've got this _dust _he's left behind so we have that advantage. And even if they've observed us, they can't do nothing to us, not in the bookshop not in your flat, we've got runes for that remember?”

“Yeah, I guess...”

“Do you want to go home?”

Aziraphale asks it so sincerely Crowley would cry if he was capable of it. And maybe he is, just a bit, as a tear rolls shyly out of his right eye. Fortunately he has his glasses on, so the angel doesn't notice. For a moment Crowley considers saying yes, but feeling much more calmer now he shakes off the angel's hand off his shoulders and turns to look out of the window, quietly wiping the single tear out of his eye.

“But the journals” he mutters slowly, words hard to find “We should find them at least” he says, coming to himself again. Aziraphale nods and starts scanning the room again, trying to find anything. For a moment Crowley thinks and tries to make sense of the situation.

“We won't find the one who did it here” he ends up saying.

“I'm afraid so dear” Aziraphale says “Do you think the demon did it themself or did it tempt a human into doing it?”

“I think he tempted a human. Secure souls and all that. And then came here and left the letter themself. Don't think they'd trust a human with it. Don't think a demon could mess up the apartment either, it looks too human”

Aziraphale hums besides him and suddenly his face brightens up impossibly.

“Martha said it's been happening all over the neighborhood! You should search the web for any news similar to this on your mobile device Crowley!”

Ignoring the old-fashioned language Aziraphale is using, he has to admit the angel has a point. Quickly he retrieves his smart phone from his pocket and with a quick search he finds some news talking about youth terrorizing London and trashing houses throughly.

“Yeah, it's true, this isn't the only case” he says scrolling through his phone “I don't know how much of this relates to demon activities though, since they blame on the youth virtually everything, this is too vague”

“We're going to have to use miracles, are we?” asks the angel, looking disappointed. Crowley nods sympathetically, although he is fucking relieved he's not going to have to put up with the angel's bullshit anymore.

“So much for being detectives” he says amused.

“Well, if you think you can find the perpetrator without using miracles we could-”

“Didn't say that”

Concentrating, he imagines the thief dropping a card with his information as he left Martha's flat, and within a second, that card lies on his hand. Aziraphale is looking at him again with those unshakable adoring eyes of his. Crowley can feel the confidence rise again and he smirks.

“Got it. Seems we're going to meet our pal soon. James Blake, what a shit name”

* * *

The drive to this 'James Blake' man is short, partly because of the excitement both of them feel to find the suspect once and for all and partly because of the lack of regard Crowley has for speed limits. And even if the drive is short, Aziraphale doesn't fail to ask him over and over again if he's fine, and Crowley can't help but feel warm inside. It all makes him even more eager to find that bloke called James and get those journal for the angel. And even if he's still a bit shaken up because of the whole new demon in town issue, the hand on his thigh drawing circles makes him forget all about it.

The address on the card takes them to an industrial zone, all warehouses, storage units and some factories here and then. If no one doesn't notices the stylish Bentley driving through the streets, it's, well, a miracle.

When they get to the exact address, it's another storage unit with its blinds shut. It's slightly bigger than the rest in the street. Wasting no time, Crowley snaps his fingers right after he steps out of the Bentley and the blinds open right away. A scream and suddenly some guy is scrambling out of a mattress on the ground. The inside is a mess, things thrown around, one over another, and the smell is just awful.

“What the fuck man!” the man, Crowley assumes is James Blake, is holding a gun now and pointing it at Aziraphale. Aziraphale in turn does a gesture with his hand and Crowley know that now the gun is probably empty, no bullets whatsoever.

“You are in trouble young man” Aziraphale says, putting on that holier-than-thou voice and act, as if he were a disappointed father “And you are going to return all the things you've stolen”

“You're James Blake right?” Crowley asks “You heard the angel, now give us Martha's... um”

“Martha's Blaire”

“Martha's Blaire journals. And if you still have the TV you'll give us that too”

As if he were hypnotized, and he is, James drops the guns and starts rummaging through a pile of books in the other side of the room.

“That was easy” Crowley says, smiling slightly when James hands him a bunch of journals and when he starts struggling with the TV Crowley snaps his fingers and all the things are inside the car.

“Now, you'll go to sleep and when you wake up you'll remember nothing of this” Aziraphale tells him and once James is back inside he makes the blinds drop closed.

For a moment they just stand there breathing. Aziraphale looks so satisfied with himself Crowley can't help but laugh. The whole thing has been so, so random and weird it has almost made forget about the demon, and heaven, and God herself. Aziraphale starts laughing too, and for a second, all is alright.

“I told you you'd enjoy this!” he says pointing a finger at Crowley while laughing and all Crowley can do is shake his head and go back to the Bentley.

“Come on angel, let's get us home”

On the ride back home Aziraphale calls, first the police and then Martha. The fact that Crowley can hear her happy screams through the phone makes him realize he's done a good thing today. And he doesn't really know how to feel about that.

“It's okay Crowley. You're okay”

Hearing Aziraphale say that makes something inside him tingle. And for a second, he's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @heavenlyfuckers at tumblr, come talk to me! I greatly appreciate reviews. In the next chapter AZ and Crowley meet Sherlock and John. I hope this didn't bore you too much! Hopefully see you next. 
> 
> Really, talk to me, I need friends 
> 
> you can also find me at @mrdrugzzz in tumblr


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